Shields and Stars
by Spider Milkshake
Summary: In the Southlands, to the east of Southsward, lies the township of Nuriem, ruled by his Lordship Rainwhether the Second. All is not well in this fiefdom controlled by hares; the Vermin Quarters of town grow restless. And now a stranger has arrived from the west... WARNING: THERE WILL BE BLOOD. Anti-racist woodlander/Anti-vermin stereotyping. Enjoy.
1. Prolouge: Winterworn

Shields and Stars

The Tale of the Stoat Uprising In Southsward

In the Tradition of Brian Jacques's Redwall Novels

* * *

Prolouge:

Winterworn

* * *

Winter in the Southlands was an easy thing to survive, at least for most creatures. The snowfall came lighter, and less frequent, and the storms always seemed to fade and dissipate before reaching quite as far south as Southsward or its neighboring lands. The only ones living here who found it trying were those who had no homes of their own.

That and the grasshoppers. One such insect lay dying in a puddle along the rutted roadway, a sloping eastern path heading east from the flatlands and woods of Southsward. It was well-used, but narrow, the winding trail being always threatened by the creeping ivy and persistent field plants. If one day nobeast decided to travel the road, it would probably be swallowed up by lush undergrowth in a week.

But not in winter. In winter the grasses turned yellow-brown, the vines curled up and hung like brown husks from the barren trees. The grasshoppers dropped one by one in the sudden cold, a coldness more akin to what those in Mossflower and further north experienced. This winter had come scarcely two weeks ago, surprising the oldsters who'd claimed by the signs of cloud and river and star that winter would be late this year. They'd also claimed that it would arrive with a great snow, but that was now a laughable prediction. The sky was morose and bleached blue, not a snow cloud in sight. All the rest of the world it seemed, or at least as far as eyes could see, was sheathed in dead brown.

Then cold rain began to drop, one sparse dribble at a time, as if the weather could not make up its mind. Frail clouds came out of hiding on the horizon. The raindrops fell unevenly, spotting the already damp ground with water as cold as if it had come from a glacier. The brown world became a darker brown.

So it was a surprise to the dormouse gatekeeper of the township of Nuriem to see a sudden dot of red and golden yellow on the west horizon. Squinting through the open, rough window in the raised shack that served as the high West Gate's lookout tower, the bushy-tailed little rodent shouldered his cloak tighter about himself and strained to make out any detail. It was a lone beast, but from where the gatekeeper sat he could hardly tell if it was mouse or marten, squirrel or shrew, ferret or fox. With a displeased grunt the dormouse heaved himself upright and shuffled down the creaking stair slats. He hated that the whole outer wall was basically made of old ash and oak timbers, stood upright and sharpened into points. It seemed to him so foolish when at any time vermin raiders or the southern Juska tribes could just burn their way in. But he wasn't on the council. So he didn't make any of those decisions.

Arriving at the base of the tall gate, the gatekeeper stood on his toes and peered out the slot opening. The figure had come closer, stepping quickly over stones and ruts and deep puddles in the path. The lone beast, some species of rodent by the look of it, was wearing a tawdry maroon cape that was somehow both too small and too large. It had been cut down from a larger garment to keep it from dragging on the ground, but the brooch-flaps which held it together across the shoulders and kept the hood from being too loose were too broad for the somewhat short creature. As a result, the hood hung loosely, obscuring the creature's face, and the cape practically enveloped the rodent's shoulders. Elsewise the beast wore a raggedy pine-green tunic and an equally worn pair of woolen breechclouts. Beneath it was an age-stained white linen undershirt with long loose sleeves. On the creature's feet were ancient leather moccasins, the brown material cracked and faded. The belts were of hemprope.

The gatekeeper eyed an object hanging at the beast's waist, the only thing he appeared to be carrying. It was an exquisitely made long rapier, its basket hilt studded with mother-of-pearl and the pommel holding a large white opal. It hung on his breeches' rope belt, encased in a tan canvas scabbard with brass fittings, also with mother-of-pearl. A thick, long rattish tail poked out from behind the end of the beast's cloak. The dormouse eyed it for a long time, one eye narrowed, through the spy-hole.

Saying nothing, the cloaked rat paced right up to the rough timber door of the West Gate. For a silent beat he appeared to turn his head, just slightly, in the direction of the sign proclaiming "Welcome Traveler To the Township of Nuriem, Where Rules His Lordship Rainwhether. The dormouse suppressed a shudder as the creature then turned to the slot. He must have been looking the gatekeeper's way, but he could not tell. The rat's eyes were still invisible under the hood's shadow.

"You're supposed to say 'Who goes there?'," the rat said, knocking the fat dormouse out of his stupor. Before he could think the dormouse was fumbling for his keys, but after a second he stopped to wonder why he was opening the door. That rat had scared him witless, and whether it was his intention to do so or not did not matter. The dormouse relaxed his search for the keys and glared viciously out the narrow opening.

"Who're you and whaddya want?!" the gatekeeper growled. The rat did not appear to react.

"I am Kyol."

Stumped by the simple and ready answer, the gatekeeper took a step back and blinked. He scowled deeply and placed a paw on the wooden bar below the spy-hole.

"And?! What is it y' want?"

"Is there tavern and boarding in this township? I wish to rest here, then to pass through." He answered blankly. The dormouse shifted his weight from footpaw to footpaw.

"Enter," he grumbled, grudgingly unlocking the massive doors. He had no cause to deny this creature passage, even it he be a vermin. Though he certainly would be reporting this new arrival to the Captain of the Guard this evening.

"Many thanks, friend." Kyol replied, giving the dormouse a curt bow. The great door shuddered open, scraping shrilly on the greased wooden tracks as it clanged against the post stops. The rat Kyol sniffed the flood of new air that escaped from the landscape within, whiskers twitching but otherwise giving no indication of his innermost thoughts.

The dormouse watched with a leering stare at the stranger entered Nuriem.


	2. Murmurings

Shields and Stars

The Tale of the Stoat Uprising In Southsward

In the Tradition of Brian Jacques's Redwall Novels

* * *

Chapter 1

Murmurings

* * *

Nuriem was no far-flung hamlet. It was a broad township, spanning a full fifth a league from one end to the other. A small river cut across its southern side, its waters thick with watercress and no deeper than a mouse's chest. The edifices were tall, all about three stories, fashioned in the southland style of rimey plaster overlaying the base timbers, leaving only the smoothed timber slat roofs and window panes exposed. The streets, intricate and cobbled, were adorned with a sumptuous array of stairs, ramps, pillars, windings, and stone benches. The dormouse gatekeeper seemed right about one thing: The outer walls being constructed of wood had been a fool's work. The entire township had a slight air of advancement about it, richness really.

It was no wonder the place seemed so well-off. The ruler of this town, a retired Long Patrol Colonel by the name of Lord Gordon Lea Rainwhether II, was largely to blame. He was well-known for having an expensive taste, sometimes at the expense of practicality, but the goodbeast citizens of Nuriem served him well just the same, albeit with a little gossiping.

It was not just those of the goodbeast clade who dwelled here, however. Members of species swiftly denounced as "vermin" also resided in the stacked townhouses and stucco-splattered dens.

The town was not set up like most places. For one, waist-high walls partially severed parts of Nuriem off from the rest of it. Each section was called a Quarter, and there were twelve of these, and in each a single specie was assigned to live. They could visit businesses in the other Quarters, but not live there. Such was the wish of His Lordship. The Quarters of the five vermin kinds were huddled together, occupying the south and slightly east portion of the settlement. The goodbeasts far outnumbered the vermin residents, and were wary to do business with them. Because you never can tell with vermin, even if they're your neighbors.

Tallon lived in Stoat Quarter. His home was very like that of any of the squirrels or otters or hares, only the stucco was a tad cracked under the eaves and he hadn't the pay or time to fix it. His current work involved running errands, delivering packages, letters, gifts and orders to various sections and creatures. The ancient rabbit that ran the service was nearly blind, so Tallon had lied and told the old one that he was just a slightly runty otter. Thankfully, his name was not to obviously stoatish for the rabbit, and he believed him.

Staying calm and composed despite the impossibly tall stack of wrapped boxes cradled in his auburn-furred arms, Tallon dodged and darted his way through the center of town, Market Square. It was technically not a part of any Quarter, and therefore it was easier to avoid the hard cold scrutiny of his neighbors there. His long service tunic, a medium grey but stained slightly from an accident with some cider, fluttered as he jumped back to avoid a wheelbarrow of rhubarb being hurried along by an impatient mouse.

From every stall came chatter. A pair of squirrelladies bickered over the price of hazelnuts. An otter called hoarsely for beasts to come look at his shad and grunion. A hare laughed aloud at a joke from a vole as they both leaned on a firkin of ale. Sound was never absent to this get-together. Tallon found a sidetrack and hopped right into it, skillfully slipping around mice and moles equally burdened with the products of their shopping binges.

"Oof!"

The hard, solid wall of flesh came out of nowhere, too fast for even Tallon to avoid. Scurrying to collect all his deliveries, the young stoat felt a shadow fall over his back and took a slow look upward. Above him stood an otter.

"Watch where you're walkin'!" the otter said, his frightening light brown eyes narrowing. Instantly Tallon recognized him; this otter was His Lordship's Captain of the Guard. The hulking beast wore thick canvas breeches overlaid with waist armor and shin guards, but his straining chest was bare save a crossbelt of cerulean blue marked with a silver star. The belt marked him as commander of Lord Rainwhether's police force, largely otters but also a few hares and squirrels. A long sling of woven kelpfibers hung from the crossbelt, not loaded but still rather threatening.

"S-sorry, sir!" Tallon squeaked, bowing profusely and backing towards the items which lay on the ground. The otter snorted and pointed a meaty claw at him.

"Just don't ye dare do it agin!" He turned, standing up straight with his paws clasped behind his back officiously. The Captain was proud of his position, and never wasted an opportunity to show a miscreant who was boss. Yet he was not in the mood today to humiliate this cheeky stoat. Something else was on his mind more prominently.

A lower-ranking otter appeared, trotting up to give his report. The Captain gave a fierce nod for him to go ahead.

"All clear in Ferret Quarter, skipper, no sign o' those vandals from yesterday. I'm thinkin' they left town."

"Hogwash," the Captain said plainly, "Nobeast leaves Nuriem. It's too ordered a place, an' besides His Lordship would 'ave a fit." He pawed at his sling to be sure it was still there.

"But sir, a ferret would leave," his underling suggested. The Captain gave him a hard look, "W-well, you know. Vermin can't 'andle peace an' suchlike."

"Right," the big otter sighed, staring at a cobblestone. The other otter turned to leave but was stopped when he spoke again, "By the way... Any word of 'appenin's at Stoat Quarter?"

The soldier was dumbfounded. He scratched his cheek with a webbed claw and thought about it.

"Can't say I 'ave, skip. You s'spect somthin'?"

"Ahh, never you mind." He laughed in response, giving his subordinate a hearty shove in the back. The lower-ranked otter laughed also, though he didn't know why he was. It seemed appropriate to do as his commander did.

Tallon did not move until the two big lutrines were gone from his sight. Then he bolted upright, scooping up his deliveries and taking off with the speed of a kite. He made good time to all of his appointments, though a few rabbits gave him some scathing looks as he came to their doors. He was used to it by now, to the point where it hardly even bothered him.

After he was done, he waited on the stone bench where he always did after his tasks were done. Findarr would come every day to have a laugh as they spied on the beasts passing on the nearby street, giggling as they made fun of all the odd characters who had decided to travel to the township. The broadwalk was the one leading in from the great West Gate, so all the new arrivals and transients were bound to pass.

Findarr arrived, a curious but charming sight as always. The tall lean stoat, garbed in a good silk shirt of powder blue and snow-white linen trousers, sauntered up and joined him. His long headfur, which was almost golden in color despite most of the rest of him being pale brown, was constantly being shuffled about either by wind or by his roaming paws. His rolling, cheerful laugh dominated Tallon's low snickering one as they mocked a passing rabbit. And he was ever eloquent at describing the folly and the silliness of their targets' behavior and dress.

"How now? Lookit that old lump of a hare!" Findarr cackled, pointing with a slender claw at the waddling creature.

"Hoi! Perilous hare! You perilous 'cause you sit on beasts t' kill 'em?!" Tallon hooted, earning a very nasty look from the bespectacled creature. Findarr threw his head back and howled with merriment.

"What's the matter, young fellow?" He taunted a mouse with particularly long sleeves which he was currently wiping his snout on, "Got a bit of a sick, have ya? Well, good job keeping it to yourself! Wouldn't want the tissues to be out of commission!"

"Hoi! You comin' or goin'? I can't bleedin' tell!" Tallon made the crack at a big, scar-faced squirrel, whom he didn't notice was wearing a silver star until it was far too late. Findarr seized his companion's shoulder in his claws and frantically begged him to hush, but by then it truly was too late. The squirrel glared and strode over, kicking Tallon hard in the shin.

"Up, you." He grunted. Findarr found his paw straying to his side, but cursed inwardly when he remembered that openly carrying a weapon was expressly forbidden for the vermin species. "Up! Wot's yore game, disturbin' these goodbeasts' peace?!"

"We're terribly sorry, good sir," Findarr babbled like a brook, jumping in front of Tallon before his friend made things worse. Tallon was scowling back at the squirrel unwisely, his temper flaring now that he had been challenged. "We were only having a bit of fun, that's all. We'd no idea it would offend a goodbeast as yourself."

"Offended, eh?!" the squirrel smile slowly, "You think I'm offended?"

"Oh, please sir, we're only youngbeast-"

"Shove off, tubby. Ain't a crime t' tell the truth!" Tallon snarled rebelliously. The squirrel stood ramrod straight in outrage, never thinking a mere stoat would dare stand up to a soldier of Nuriem.

"You little... Hellspawn!" He roared. A strong paw struck out, knocking them both over. He reached slowly, lovingly for a caning rod strapped across his back, a triumphant smirk on his scarred features, "I'm gonner enjoy punishin' you both!"

With no warning the rod was half a rod. Staring at it in puzzlement, the soldier almost did not notice the undersized rat clad in maroon hooded cloak standing beside him, a long rapier in paw.

"Why do you persecute these youngbeasts?" the rat said. The squirrel gave a gasp of shock and put distance between them.

"'Ow'd you-Who're you? Are you registered in Rat Quarter?!"

The rat shook his head, staring at the puffing guard in genuine puzzlement.

"No. I come from the outside, from Southsward and beyond. What crime have these two done?" he pressed further.

"Talkin' back to an officer of th' law!" the squirrel said matter-of-factly. The rat's blade rose a fraction.

"That is... a crime here?" the rat paused, "This is not what I expected to find..."

The two young stoats, stunned and amazed by the rat's bold disobeying of Nuriem laws, watched in wonderment and slight horror as the scarred squirrel guard threw aside his ruined caning rod and drew out a straight-edged sword instead. The rat's footpaws suddenly shuffled apart in a fluid motion, requiring almost no thought or effort. The squirrel roared aloud:

"Aye, an' so is 'avin' a frogsticker like yores." Creatures nearby had frozen, looking on with dinner-plate eyes, "I know yore type, scum. Th' only good blade fer a bilgerat like you is th' one stickin' out of 'im!"

Kyol the rat remained as still as a fencepost as his enemy threw himself forward, cleaving the air wildly. His face, invisible to all watchers, bore a trace of a calm smile. He took a single step and joined the fray with all the skill he'd inherited not from his forefathers, but from a rough life God-knows-where.

* * *

First official chapter! Please remember to review if you see something you like or something I need to work on!


	3. The Madame

Shields and Stars

The Tale of the Stoat Uprising In Southsward

In the Tradition of Brian Jacques's Redwall Novels

* * *

Chapter 2

The Madame

* * *

"There's no time! Come!" The rat garbed in brown servant's livery called to the Lady of Stoat House, leader of the Stoat Quarter and a minor member of council. The female stoat of impressive height, her jade eyes piercing and heavy-lashed, peered up from the parchments on her rolltop desk and stared, demanding an explanation without ever using a single word.

"My Lady..." the rat pleaded, taking at least two swift looks over his shoulder, "An incident involving two of your Quarter is taking place at this moment on the broadwalk to Market Square. A strangebeast is in their midst and he carries a sword. The transient has threatened an officer of the Guard." He added at the last minute, hoping that the involvement of the Guard would spurn the stoatess into action more quickly.

"What have I to do with lawless brigands?" the Lady asked in a low tone. Her voice was deep and even, rather like cool lake water. The rat shuffled and wrung the end of his kirtle.

"Well, um," He licked dry lips, "Two of your beasts are involved in the, uh, fight. It falls to you to ensure their safety..."

With a deep breath the Lady rose, her embroidered forest green robe straightening and falling to her mid-calves. She took another sharp look at the rat messenger.

"Be gone now, I'm going to resolve this..." With a deep but rapid bow the rat backed out of the study and into the hall. As soon as he was out of eyeshot he relaxed his stiff posture, sighing slightly and wandering gratefully toward the door out of the immaculate manor.

* * *

Kyol had waited until the scarred squirrel had come within an arm's length before making his move. With the tree rodent's breath almost brushing his hood, the rat stepped swiftly to the side, leaving the confused guard swinging at the air. Then the strange rat retaliated, planting his moccasined footpaw hard in the beast's posterior.

Rising from the ground in embarrassed rage the squirrel dusted off his star and bared his teeth at his much quicker adversary. He swung again, this time stepping into it with broadly planted feet so that he could change direction fast should Kyol dart away again. There was a clang of metal as the rat parried the blow, turning it down and sending it to bite the stones of the street.

"You've been trained to wield a blade, I see." Kyol said with a pique of interest. "Who was your tutor?"

"A hare, scum." the squirrel smirked, "A great better teacher'n yores, t' be sure!"

"How know you that?" the rat fired back, whipping his rapier forward and forcing the guard to step backwards to avoid it nicking his cheek, "You've never met my master."

"Hah! I know 'e was a great ugly vermint like you, so 'e can't be too good," the squirrel snickered, chopping repeatedly at the rat's upraised blade. Kyol bent at the knees, giving the spectators the notion that the small creature was being forced to the ground. Several of the hares, mice and otters began cheering, while others looked away, not caring which side lost if it meant blood being spilled.

Kyol lifted his head up towards the squirrel's. For the first time, his eyes became visible. The squirrel's heart seemed to stop for a beat or two from the shock as he looked upon the stranger's visage. Were both of his eyes whited over with the sheen of blindness? No, only one, the other's natural color was simply so pale that it took more than a glance to determine that he did indeed have a single functioning eye. Kyol bared his sharp incisors and stood suddenly, pushing outward with both paws on the hilt of his sword, causing his opponent to fall backward on his tail.

"You are a knavish one, aren't you?" he said, a glimmer of dislike finally tingeing his voice. "Stand up and fight. Or stay where you are and admit defeat."

The squirrel's paws shook as he scrambled backwards, wiping a thin thread of spittle from his chin. A scowl formed on his convoluted brow and he rose, clenching his paws into quivering fists.

"H-How _dare_ you, you dirty..!"

Tallon pushed and shoved at the crowd, trying to see what was happening. A hare shoved him down as the stoat tried to shimmy past him for a better view. Findarr was taller and could see marginally better, gasping at the new turn of events.

"Great snakes!" he exclaimed, staring intensely at the figure of Kyol as he struck back against the squirrel, sending a spark from the rodents' blades, "What eyes! How does a beast get born with eyes like those?!"

"What eyes? I can't see!" Tallon complained, "Tell me what just happened!"

"The rattish fellow just got back up. Now he's giving that guard a lesson he'll never forget! Ah! Careful there! Oh, not a kick to the-_-_he's done it again! This is the greatest bit of swordplay I've ever seen! So much improved from all our stage performances!"

"I don't bloody care!" Tallon sighed, "Just tell me who's winnin'!"

"Oh, I dunno. The rat fellow at the moment," Findarr wagered, "I think...?"

"This is why I should 'ave a look!" Tallon stomped the ground. A nearby vole gave him a foul look, and Tallon returned it with equal malice. "'S not fair, somebeasts want t' see what's goin' on!"

"Shut it, weaselfeatures!" a squirrel with a heavy mustache snarled. Tallon bared his teeth in reply and said nothing.

Jabbing with the very tip of his rapier, Kyol forced his adversary into a dance of death around ans around in the cleared oval of street. Flicking his tail out, the rat tried tripping the squirrel, but the rodent leaped over it and brought his sword down in a downward arc. Kyol rolled to the side, causing the guard's blade to smash into the cobblestones and shatter one. With a smirk the hefty rodent rose again, brushing lithic dust from his shirt.

"Can't run f'rever, longtail!" he taunted. Kyol tapped his tail sharply on the ground.

"I do not run, only wait," he responded, then dashed at a surprising speed towards the squirrel. Alarmed, the brushy-tailed rodent raised his sword and thrust its point at the rapidly approaching figure. Kyol sailed upward in a bound, over the seeking weapon and cannoning both legs into his enemy's chest. Both were tossed to the ground in a heap, but the rat was up first, his rapier point hovering a mere whisker from his vanquished opponent's throat.

"Checkmate."

A hush fell over the crowd, goodbeast and vermin alike, all waiting with some degree of horror on their faces. They were all wondering if the rat would really slay his enemy right there in the street, in front of scores of witnesses. Somewhere in the back a ratwife hurried away, her swaddled babe beginning to set up a wail. Tallon and Findarr too stood stock still with bated breath, unable to look away from the suspenseful scene.

Kyol said nothing, to either his audience or the panting squirrel underneath him looking on his shadowed face with fear-stricken eyes. Reaching out one paw, the rat confiscated the other rodent's sword and stood, still keeping the rapier point near his neck. He walked in a half-circle around the defeated one. After what seemed like an age, Kyol took up his sword and stowed it away with a confident scrape of the scabbard.

Now oxygen was once again a common commodity, and the entire congregation let out gasps and sighs of relief. On the side opposite of the two stoats a mousemaid fainted from the excitement, having to be removed from the road by a pair of voles. Tallon could not keep his gaze from wandering to the strangebeast; Kyol stood by like a majestic creature, an eagle or stag, or something else wondrous but perilous to look upon. He barely noticed when a series of harsh shouts echoed from further up the street, the shouts of approaching Guard reinforcements.

"Look out, there! Make room, alla youse! Get outta th' way!" the otter at the patrol's head bellowed. The young stoat took one look at the some two score soldiers approaching and began shouldering his way forcefully through the crowd.

"Where are you going, Tallon?!" Findarr said, his voice risen an octave. "We need to get out of here!"

"I want to help that rat!" Tallon shrugged off his friend's grasping claw. Ignoring the taller stoat's continued protests he broke through the crowd and scurried over to Kyol at reckless speed. The rat turned, eying him suspiciously.

"What do you want? Are you friend or foebeast?" Kyol took a step back, putting distance between himself and the breathless mustelid. Tallon's throat was dry, but he managed to speak anyhow.

"Quickly!" he pointed over behind him, "The Guard is coming! You'll be killed'r'worse if you stand here!"

Kyol's single working eye cast over the stoat, examining him thoroughly. Saying nothing, the rat shouldered his cloak about him tighter and, to Tallon's shock, obeyed him.

With the rat swordsbeast striding at a swift clip behind him the crowd now parted fearfully for the youngbeast. Finding Findarr again, Tallon urged him along, taking a sidestreet with all his speed.

"What are you thinking, man!?" Findarr shrieked, giving the rat with them a wary glance, "Do you know what'll happen to us if it's found out we helped him escape?! I'll have you know, I like my stage career! I don't want it ending over a, a..." he came to a faltering halt as Kyol turned his gaze on him.

"Stop bein' such a yellowfur!" Tallon growled, leading them off through another tight empty lane, hemmed in on all sides with the sides of residences. "I ain't watchin' another creature get kicked around just 'cuz he doesn't know th' rules!"

"It's not a matter of the rules, it's a matter of-"

"Yes it is! The laws here are stupid!" Tallon contested, "Do you know what, I seen a mouse just today, big scary-lookin' feller, come in. He had a blade, but no guardbeast went up to him an' demanded his weapon!"

Kyol could not help but listen silently to the friends' argument as he ran along with them. He wondered where the two were leading them, and of the curious manner in which this township was run. He had been places where the goodbeast clade looked down on him, tormented him, and even attacked him, solely for the reason of his species. But never had he encountered a place where it's own laws, set in stone, encouraged the division. There was no law in otter holts, in squirrel dreys, in vole middens or mole tunnels, or mouse abbeys, which declared openly that the verminbeast was inferior and to be held to a different standard. Taking in the sights of the beautifully-made houses and roads, the rat pondered how such a place could be so very fine to look on, and yet have such a rot at its core.

The narrow way opened up, revealing the south end of Market Square. Kyol eyed the stands and booths and their gleaming produce and goods with a joy that never made it to his face. This parade of the senses was lost on Tallon and Findarr as they heatedly argued more.

"We can't go out there! We'll be spotted, the sparrows have surely been sent around by now!"

"It's the only way! Any'ow, how's a sparrow going to pick us out from all those other beasts? All they know is two stoats and a liddle rat."

"It's not that crowded!" Findarr chewed on a hangclaw, "We could be seen. Besides, there's a guard right there!" He pointed with a slim claw at the otter who was standing with his back to them, chatting with a pair of mice running a fruit stand.

"If you two wouldn't mind," Kyol interrupted softly, "I'd like to know where you are taking me."

The two exchanged looks dumbly for a moment, then turned their backs to him and held a whispered conference. If the situation were not so serious Kyol would have had himself a rare chuckle.

"To Stoat Quarter, of course." Findarr finally lifted his head in reply.

"Aye, an' Stoat House in Stoat Quarter. Original names, what?"

"I see..." Kyol nodded. "And what is this Stoat House? Do you all live together, separated by kind?"

"Yeah, not all in the House, but...yeah," Tallon admitted, confused by his sudden burst of shame upon telling the rat of that fact of life here. Never had he so questioned how the town was run before, and it scared him to think that he'd never given the startling fact so much as a second glance.

"What will Our Lady say..?" Findarr groaned. "Will she even let us harbor this, this... wanted man?"

"Of course she will!" Tallon thrust any doubt aside, "She's a good sort. She'll understand. An' besides..." Tallon smirked, "She don't like those guard types any more than we do. We tell 'er th' details an' she'll welcome you in with open arms."

Kyol was suddenly uncertain about following the two mustelids. But nevertheless he sighed quietly and followed, having no other choice at the moment.

* * *

"Escaped? How?" the tall green-eyed stoatess interrogated her fellow councilbeast, a venerable ferret in goldenrod robes similar to hers. The old one coughed slightly and adjusted his bifocal spectacles, tapping a claw on the strip of birch parchment lying on the table between them.

"'Tis not known at this time, but rumor is that two of a vermin species whisked him away in the confusion of the Guard arriving," the ferret explained. He took a long sip of comfrey tea and hacked slightly at the aromatic liquid, "Ahem! The Captain of the Guard has instructed us all to be on the lookout for a pair of creatures, possibly weasels, ferrets or stoats, together with a small-statured rat carrying an illegal weapon. We're to turn them in immediately, of course," Something about the way the old ferret said "of course" carried with it a hint of sadness, but also the suggestion that their duties were not as obvious as the letter to them had stated. The Lady of Stoat House stared questioningly at the ferret for a moment after this, her own soul equally reluctant to obey the edicts of their hare Lord.

"It feels so like treason, does it not? Throwing such beasts onto the mercy of our Council's majority if we already know what the outcome will be." She chose her words carefully, sipping at her own drink, which was not herbal tea but strong peach brandy. The ferret coughed again.

"Yes, quite," he stared at her, as if chiding her for speaking of their displeasure out loud, "It does seem most untoward for the voices of five Quarters to go entirely unheard. We shall have to bring it up next session, and see if we cannot convince our Lord Rainwhether of revoking the ban on vermin carrying arms within the walls."

"An astute observation," she applauded with a nod. "But that would be no easy task. It may as well be doomed to fail in the infant stages. You know better than anybeast how the hares and their colleagues feel about mustelids, myurids, vulpines and the like."

Self-consciously the elderly beast shifted the sleeves of his yellow robe, covering a part of his arms with a suppressed wince.

"Yes," he said, "I know that feeling well, my friend."

* * *

Will the trio escape? Will the Lady let them hide in her mansion? Will there be any more sword fights? Find out next time! Remember to review!


	4. Light In the Window

Sheilds and Stars

The Tale of the Stoat Uprising In Southsward

In the Tradition of Brian Jacques's Redwall Novels

* * *

Chapter 3

Light In The Window

* * *

The Captain of the Guard hustled along, urging his troops to begin canvassing the nearby streets and alleys for the three wanted beasts. Five otters went with him into the Market Square; others in groups of four or more dispersed along every way or lane they could find. The Captain cursed as he cast a glare down at the stony streets. If the roads were earthen he would have a sporting chance of tracking the three without these ridiculous troop measures. He was squandering precious resources by dispatching so many of his guard at once, sending them off on a wild goose chase when they could be aiding in keeping the peace between the Quarters. Or watching the walls. If any of his otters, squirrels or hares had been at the gate when the dangerous rat had entered none of this would have happened.

The squirrel Jargo was still sputtering, his ego completely destroyed by the experience of being bested by the terrifying beast. He kept murmuring about marble orbs and silver. He was obviously mad.

"Make room!" one of his otters growled, pushing aside a troublesome old weasel who refused to step aside for the squad of searchers. The weasel stumbled and fell into a basket of damsons, setting the booth's owner, a mouse, alight with fiery anger. The troop passed, ignoring the yelps of the gray-furred musteline as the mouse laid into him with a flyswatter.

The Captain spotted a reddish cloak adorning a small figure and lunged out, seizing the beast's garment in one sinewy paw. Dragging it upright, he was about to bark aloud in laughing triumph at his luck, but one look at the startled civilian's face proved just how difficult it would be to make out the three fugitives in the crowded bazaar. Sighing, the otter dropped the squirrel he had been holding and continued with muttered apologies.

Before too long it became clear that if the three were still in the area, they were not coming out to be found by the roving Guard. The Captain ordered the open-street search be stopped until further notice, and instigated a new tactic. Three guard apiece would demand entry into the buildings, banging loudly on the doors and stamping in officiously to search the nooks and crannies where the three vermin may be hiding out. An hour of this, the Captain reasoned, and even the vermin Quarters would be anxious to give up any sighting of the Guard's targets. Who knew how much contraband lay in the hidden places in any house of Rat or Fox Quarter... They would either turn in the three or be arrested themselves.

One of the younger hares on his squad voiced a timid concern; might this tactic, however clever, serve to alienate the vermin Quarters? It seemed wrong to barge into the townsfolks' homes and search through their belongings, even when done to vermin creatures. Would they not become sullen and refuse to aid the policing, protecting force?

"All in th' name o' justice, deputy," the Captain responded with a sniff. The Guard moved ahead with the plan, knocking on every door near Market Square and making great progress as the day wore on towards sunset.

* * *

Tallon was breathing heavily, though it was not from fatigue. A pair of guard otters had passed far too close to him for his liking, and now the three huddled on the opposite end of Market Square, trying to not be noticed among a loitering band of travelers who had no idea what was going on.

The otters moved off, towards the center of the bazaar. Findarr stood upright again, towering over the pair of mice he had chosen to hide amongst. Kyol stared out at the Market still, watching the otters and hares weaving in between the stalls and questioning every vender. It was obvious they were treating each clade differently even when the words were inaudible; a shaking, ominous paw here, directed at a trembling rat, but then a gentle coaxing bobbing of the head as the guard attempted to extract news from a haremaid. Kyol shook his head, wondering if he had fallen during his travels and was simply hallucinating the strange town.

"Come on, time to move!" Findarr whispered. The crowd of traveling creatures had grown bored of standing and speculating what all the guards' fuss was about, and thusly were dispersing to do their business. The two stoats and their rat shadow flitted towards a sidestreet. Kyol noted that they were heading south.

"Now entering Stoat Quarter." Tallon said, a grimace on his lips. Kyol eyed the nondescript sign announcing the same thing in small, beetle black ink. There was a marked change in the richness of this habitation-the plastered walls of the once fine tall homes were now somewhat cracked, chimney stacks were grimed from not being cleaned, and the streets were less maintained and deeply rutted in places. They passed an old cart being struggled along by an equally old creature, probably a stoat but really impossible to tell under the beast's flop hat and bushy beard.

However, at the end of the main road, stood one edifice that did not look at all like a dilapidated structure begging for the chance to collapse at the first puff of wind. It was Stoat House, the home of the Lady of Stoat Quarter. Tallon explained this to Kyol as they ran, flying past the reflecting pool where small killifish bobbed decoratively, watching all who passed with their huge flat eyes and devouring mosquito larvae. The rat warrior could never have imagined such a house; it was three normal stories like all the others, but a flourishing pair of small attic towers crested it magnificently. Arches hung on the structure as if ripe fruit, and broad sleek windows of the finest blue-tinged glass were laid in even rows, giving each room a shower of natural light. The stairs leading up to the main door were beautiful warm brown quartzite.

But the stoats were not leading him directly in. They dashed around the side, to what had to be a servants' entrance. Humble as it was meant to be, this door was still very finely-made and had had a deep rich stain applied to it.

"Get in, get in," Findarr said, peering back over his shoulder for signs of trouble following them. Kyol obeyed, though it was hard for him to take his eyes off the splendor of even the servant section of the place. The wall paneling was lovely and shone in the darkened interior. Candles were placed in elegant scones of bronze at even lengths. Everything spoke of poise and grandeur.

Swiftly rushing down the entry hallway they were met with a stoat servantmaid. She opened her mouth to scream but Findarr clamped her mouth shut with his paw. The much smaller creature could not break his grasp, for though he looked rather skinny he possessed all the sneaky strength one would expect of a performer.

"Quit it!" he said, wagging a paw in her face, "You know we aren't some rapscallions come in here, cut the act."

She did, with a sigh. Findarr released her from his hold and she immediately went to embrace Tallon. A bead of sweat dripping down his brow, the younger stoat returned the hug with some reluctance.

"Oh, it's only you," she said as she released the confused mustelid, "There was talk of two fellas doin' some rough business an'-_-_who's that?"

Kyol shuffled and adjusted his cape's broochflaps. The stoatess's sudden attention to him did not raise his confidence in hiding here. Findarr cast his friend a glance and tapped the maiden on her shoulder.

"Ah, about that..."

Findarr had no need to finish his sentence. The stoatess's rapidly scrunching face was all they needed to see.

"You _didn't!_" she hissed, staring hard at Findarr. Now the tall slim stoat did not seem to crave her attention; he shrunk back so that even her tiny frame seemed to tower over him. "You two?! Hellsteeth!" she cursed as she turned to Tallon, "You should know better! D'you even _know_ him?!"

"Well, I don't think-_-_" Tallon attempted.

"That's just it, then!" she snarled. Kyol took a step back, pulling his hood down a little further, "You don't ever think! And _you_!" she turned back to Findarr, who had just thought to straighten up again, "All yore brains an' you went along with it?! D'you _want_ us all murdered in our beds?!"

"I'm sorry, Milady, this is my fault," Kyol stepped forward with a slight bow, sure to keep a comfortable distance between him and the distrustful servantmaid, "I never wished to involve these two youngsters. It should have been my duty to refuse their aid..."

Surprisingly, the stoatess brightened. She stepped towards the small rat, nearly as short as she, and carefully brushed powdery street mortar stains from his cape.

"Don't trouble yoreself, sir," she said, "Really you must have had no choice. 'Twas all th' fault of my two friends here. To be chased by th' Guard, all for a sword!" she blinked doe-eyed. "It sounds just awful. I'm sure Lady Juivira will understand and do all she can to right this mess..." she stopped suddenly, "Unless you... killed that squirrel guard..?"

Kyol was stunned by the speed news traveled in this town. Gathering his cloak about him, he shook his head.

"I don't kill anymore."

"Anymore?" Tallon gaped. Findarr stroked his chin at a furious speed. Kyol raised his paws disarmingly.

"Once, many seasons ago." he explained, "Never again."

"Well..." the female stoat placed her paws on hips, "I'd best speak to Her Grace about this before she gets the wrong ideas about harboring our... guest."

"'Twould be most prudent," Kyol agreed. She turned and opened a nearby door, which led to a spiraling stone staircase. Tallon called after her.

"Cesta," she turned, "Talk to me later?"

"Uh-huh, after a while." Findarr snorted lightly.

Kyol let a sigh escape through his nostrils as he wondered what sort of convoluted story he'd blundered into.

* * *

The Lady of Stoat House sipped a tall sleek glass of cherry blossom wine from her own personal vineyard from atop the high balcony overlooking the luscious garden south of the mansion. Trellis fences bordered the place, which shone with every color of flora thought possible, from quivering purple snapdragons to cheery yellow daisies and coneflowers. The setting sun lit the scene perfectly as Juivira watched a green-throated sapsucker-like bird building a nest in a fig tree with fine twigs and grasses.

Anticipating her most important meeting of the day, she gave a long sideways glance to the hare guard standing aloof on the far side of the balcony, charged with watching over her safety. As her silver-adorned ears picked up the sound of rustling from her garden she straightened up and gave a pained sigh.

The hare, as expected, turned and addressed her.

"Lady Juivira? Is there some way I may serve ya?"

"Nay, my good beast." she grimaced. "I feel a touch bothered, nothing more." she turned with a pleading smile, "Maybe I just need some time alone to think...How would you like a much-deserved break?"

"My Lady," the hare blushed and stuck out his chest, "'Tis my duty t' see you safe at th' end of th' day. I can't very well abandon it, wot?"

"Oh," the stoatess let her face fall, "Well, that's too bad." She suddenly brightened, taking hold of the bottle of exotic wine and dangling with one paw off to the side the hare stood on, "Then would you mind terribly disposing of this? It tires me..." She winked coyly.

Greed and gratefulness spreading across his face, the hare bowed and accepted the wine.

"I shall, M'Lady," he grinned, backing out through the broad open doors that led into the study. Juivira sighed, letting the mask of expression fall off her face.

"We're alone, Gonwar."

Portions of a beauteous lilac bush parted and a hulking figure clad in a loose homespun cloak rose from it. Throwing the garment aside, he revealed himself to be an otter. Not just any otter, however. A silver star stood out on his blue crossbelt.

"Finally," the Captain of Nuriem's Guard said. He vaulted powerfully up the decorative pillars holding up the balcony, "I've been wantin' to se ya all day."

"Me too," the stoatess smiled. The otter crouched beside her to be level with her seated figure. "Stress tends to heighten such desires."

"Juivira..." the otter laughed, "Why don't you drop the fancy speech, eh? Nobeast's watchin' us."

"I can't help it, Gonwar." she said, taking hold of his chunky paw. "Politics has left its ugly scar."

"Ugly? You? Never," he said. "Yore like one of those great black swans from the eastlands, or one o' yore own amaryllises."

"You flatter me," she chuckled, stroking the paw of the otter, "This relationship... It's a tad unacceptable, isn't it?" she cast her face downward. Captain Gonwar widened his eyes.

"What's got you on that all a sudden?"

"This business with the rat," she said, leaning over and allowing the otter to set a paw gently on her back. She looked up at him with a wince, "I can't stop thinking about what this all means."

"It means I have a job to do," the otter said. She shook her head.

"I meant what it means for us," she turned Gonwar's paw so that it was palm up, "There will be so much attention focused here very soon... Focused on us, perhaps."

"Nobeast knows about us." the otter assured her, "When it comes to secrets in this town, I hold all th' keys. Nobeast needs t' see an' nobeast will either." he grinned broadly, showing his sharp lutrine eyeteeth, "I promise."

"You great lump of an otter. I love you," she could not help but grin back.

"I love you too." The otter and stoatess embraced for more than one or two moments, defying the ideologues they shared their lives with. The green-throated bird arrived back at her distant nest carrying a cork, trying to fit it into her nest with mixed success.

* * *

*GASP* The plot thickens! What could possibly happen next?! Remember to review, even if it's negative!


	5. Two Labyrinthes

Shields and Stars

The Tale of the Stoat Uprising In Southsward

In the Tradition of Brian Jacques's Redwall Novels

* * *

Chapter 4

Two Labyrinthes

* * *

Findarr probed the wall behind the small bookcase cautiously, seeking the small lever that was usually hidden under the wall hanging above. Tallon watched the hallway outside of the lower library, keenly watching for any passers-by. Kyol stood aloof, marveling the near-limitless amount of tomes and scrolls lining the shelves and scattered on the sturdy oak tables. Some of the margins had notes scrawled hastily in a tiny, flourishing print, but Kyol could not read the tiny letters save the beginnings of each sentence, they were so tightly packed. The rat could never have imagined a place so full of knowledge.

"Here, got it," Findarr called to them, and the hidden switch creaked shrilly as he turned it upwards. A section of wall paneling lowered flat, revealing a narrow, unlit hall built secretly into the great manor. The golden-maned stoat pointed a claw down the dark passage.

"How'd you know this was here?" Tallon asked, giving his friend a strong sideways look from skeptical eyes.

"You know us actors," he winked, "Once or twice we put on something a might bit offensive... Escape routes and hideaways are common knowledge to all who play in the Quarter Houses." He took long leggy strides down the secret hall, as if he knew already where to step. The two others saw his form stoop some twenty paces in, then a brief spark, and he was revealed in a sudden blooming of yellow light. An oil lantern coated in dust was held loosely in his paw. "Well, come along."

Following him, they were led along the dank, stone-walled corridor in the half-light, ducking under cobwebs and hanging filth with no description that could be put into words and still make sense to a sentient ear. Soon they came to a dead end, but a thin shaft of flickering light shone out from beneath one of the stone slabs.

"Here we are, gents." the stoat beamed. Tallon tapped the wall blocking their way and found it was not stone, but merely paneling wood painted to look like stone. "And now, if I could have some assistance..."

"Hellsteeth, Fin!" Tallon bent his back into lifting the secret panel, "Ya didn't tell me it was rusted shut!"

"Well-unh!-It wasn't like this last moon!"

Kyol strode over, his cape and hood stirring even in the stagnant subterranean air. Crouching down between them he set his claws in the crack that was emanating light and gave an almighty heave upward.

The panel made a horrible screech, then came free and slid upward on its iron tracks, slamming into the slot it was designed to retreat into. The two stoats gave each other an uneasy look as the rat warrior stepped between them once again to pass through the exit he had made.

"Where is this place?" he asked, looking about and sniffing. It was dark, but a candle or two were guttering in their sconces a ways away. There was a lilac smell and a few vague shapes of furnishings on the opposite wall. Tallon nodded towards them.

"Secret room, where else?" he said. "The Good Lady must've commissioned it be built in after the manor was stood. Somebeast been in here..?" He moved to one of the candles, noting that it was the cause of the pleasant aroma, "These ain't been lit but four hours ago or so."

"Five hours, actually."

The trio spun around at the voice coming from the portion of the room most in shadows.

Kyol put an exploratory paw on his rapier's hilt.

"What a rash way to greet the Master of the House of which you are guest," the deep feminine voice said in a mockery of shock. "I take it you, sir rat, are the one who has our domain very much worked up?"

The rat, realizing the power of the figure, let his paw slide away from the weapon and to his chest, balling it into a fist as he bowed. The pair of stoats cowered slightly as the form rose from the armchair she had been sitting in and took a few slow, deliberate steps towards them.

"You are the Lady of Stoat House, I presume?" Kyol looked upon her hard, noting the sheer height of the female, and her elegant garb. He could feel her deep green eyes on him, narrowed so that he almost could not see them under her long lashes.

"That I am," she said.

Kyol took a short glance back at his two guides. They were obviously fearful. He wondered if this Lady was the sort to turn in all lawbreakers, or if she could be swayed. His first suspicions were that she would be impossible to persuade away from whatever she had in mind for him; her very visage and presense spoke of infinite will and shaded ambition. She reminded him of others he had known, others that had conquered or died, according to their wit. The stoatess did not appear to lack that wit.

"I am Kyol, a warrior from the North who knows not your kingdom's laws," the rat introduced himself, his tone regretful as he relayed the latter half, "If it is your wish, Ma'am, I will take responsibility for my actions, be the punishment fair."

"Oh, will you?" Juivira smiled, "Well, that's a surprise coming from one who resists arrest and assaults the all-noble Guard."

"How so?" Kyol did not know what else to say to her. Her voice and motive were beyond his sight, hidden in layers of cunning rhetoric and false expression.

"In all honesty, I expected a brutish rebel, a child who fights without a cause," she laughed, "You seem an honest beast to me. Far more than I can say for poor Jargo, the squirrel you defeated. Now," she turned sharply to Findarr and Tallon, and the pair cringed visibly, "What of you..?"

"L-Lady Juivira... We really meant no harm," the tall slender stoat interjected on both of their behalves, "Mister Kyol here needed a place to hide out, or s-surely the Guard would have either slain or imprisoned him for his... his... er, crime..."

"His crime?" Juivira's eyebrows raised. Tallon squirmed uncomfortably as she drew nearer to him. "And what was his crime?"

Tallon's insides felt like they would break apart into pieces of dust, crumbling away into nothing and leaving him a purposeless husk. He had never been put on the spot by one of the House Masters before, especially not anybeast with all the persuasive skill and guile as the Lady.

But something else stirred again within him along with the crushing fear. It proved itself mightier as the words rushed from the youngbeast's mouth.

"Nothing."

Findarr looked on his younger friend aghast, but before he could turn and offer his profuse apologies to his Lady the tall stoatess began a long, drawn-out chuckle. Then, as the three watched stunned, the chuckle transformed into an all-out laugh.

"Nothing," she boomed, and the sound echoed up into the rafters of the chamber, "Aye, what a curious thought. Nothing wrong done, eh?" She quieted in an instant, returning to her ordinary poised demeanor, "What say you, Master Kyol? Did you 'nothing'?"

"Good Lady, I broke your laws," he began, shuffling his tail against the dust of the floor, "But please, I beseech you, I really must ask that you-"

"Ah, ah," she silenced him with a flick of her paw. "Who said that law against carrying arms was my doing?"

Struck dumb, the three malebeasts stared uncomfortably into various places in the dark. Findarr's eyes lit up with a sudden frightened revelation.

"Y-You don't mean..?!"

"Do I, dear Findarr?" she snapped her head towards him, smiling genially, "Must you even ask? Was it not you who entertained me and my court in the Spring? And was it not you who whispered your grievance to me, about the leadership of the hares?"

"I... I was he..." the lanky beast let out a strange, but relieved sigh, "I-I thought it was just an idea, a fool's jest. I was only a stagepaw and background voice. I didn't think you'd take it seriously, Madam."

"I take everything seriously," she smirked, "It is my living to do so."

Approaching the side of the room which held the armchair again, the Lady reached out and daintily shifted a pewter vase on a recessed bookcase. A clank sounded, and the whole wall lifted and slid to the side, revealing another secret corridor. Findarr even was surprised.

"What?" she grinned at them, "Did you only think there was one? Politics, my friends. It always pays to have more than one out."

* * *

The Grand Council Building was built upon a slight hill on the north side of Nuriem, square in the center of Hare Quarter, the richest of all but also the smallest. It was, if that were possible, and even grander edifice than Stoat House or any of the other Lords' and Ladies' manors. It was nearly twice the size of them, and at its greatest height stood a domed bell tower steeple. The figure of a mouse was silhouetted clearly in the dusk hours as he heaved on the ropes, sending the bronze bells, all eight of them, crashing into melodious motion.

"It rings six o' clock, gentlebeasts," the monocled vulpine in the grey silky robe commented idly, his deeply affected voice a high quaver. A group of similarly robed beasts occupied the same grand space, an audience chamber with raised surrounding balcony with a semi-circle of throne-like chairs for the esteemed delegates. The other creatures each wore a different color, according to species. Though Lady Juivira was absent and the Lord of Mole Quarter was otherwise busy, the assembly still had enough courtiers to carry on with the evening meeting.

A mouse, large, muscular and silver-furred, grumbled from the throne beside the fox. His robes were a dark crimson, and a shortsword hung conspicuously by his waist.

"Hrmm, so it has." the mouse Lord nodded. "Can you see with that? What is the first item on the agenda there?"

"An account of a crop blight, it looks to be," the fox answered as he squinted. "Either that, or some unusual tally of exotic fungus to be approved for sale in the markets..."

"Oh, bah," the mouse snorted, slipping a paw under his robe's hem searching for the flask of strong brandy he kept there, "Another long session with no change in the weather, methinks."

"Indeed," the fox looked slyly to his right. A fox, clad in servant's gray kirtle, came jogging breathlessly up. "Ah, and here's my runner come back. Excuse me a moment, Horm." The fox turned away, leaning over the arm of the throne as his lackey approached. "Please tell me some good news."

The messenger hesitated and swallowed nervously. The Fox Lord eyed him with contempt.

"Well? Out with it."

"Your Grace, the otter Gonwar, Captain of the Guard, has begun his searching in our Quarter. He's turned out three households who were holding illegal arms and-"

"Damn his slippery hide." The fox growled, "What else?"

"Er, he has also demanded a full examination of your manor, in case the fugitives have found their way in without your knowing..."

"Huh, 'found their way in'. Couldn't make it any more obvious what he means by that." the vulpine popped his monocle out and tucked it into his breast pocket, "Come a bit closer, friend, that I may reward you..."

The crony did his Lordship's bidding.

The Fox Lord's paw snaked out and grasped his subordinate's jaw roughly and pulled him to within an inch of his dangerous gold eyes.

"By blood and thunder, if those otters and hares find anything there, so help me I shall have you sunk in the compost heap where they'll never find you," he hissed, "So you know what to do. Rouse the others and get to it."

With a suppressed whimper, the servant jerked back from his Master's grasp and trotted off, grim and sure of his task. And especially devoted to it, for it was his neck on the line.

"Jolly good fellow," the Fox Lord turned back to Horm, popping his monocle carefully back in and scanning some papers before him on his lap, "Wonderful honest fellow. Though I do fear for his safety. Not every fox can be half so peaceable."

"Aye, Zyael." Dorm was not listening very closely. He was watching the conversing of the other delegates, his mind working furiously. Little did he know that Fox Lord Zyal's was as well. "Would you entertain a question for me?"

"I shall try, but questions are fickle beasties," Zyael tittered merrily, "Go on."

"What think you of Juivira's absence?"

"Ah, her. She's a busy bee, you know. Always working on something or other." he smiled. "They say it was a pair of weasels, or maybe stoats, who aided that rat who attacked a guardbeast, you know..."

"What are you implying?"

"Implying? Oh, no, not I." the fox tucked the scrolls away, "I'm merely saying that she must be overloaded with work tonight. I'm fair sure myself that the pair of rapscallions were weasels, but the rumors are cruel here in Nuriem. Suspicion is on her, poor bird."

"I would suggest not addressing a fellow House Master in such a manner," Dorm shot a subtle glare sideways at the vulpine. Zyael caught on but gave no indication of such, snickering slightly.

"A jest, Sir Dorm. I meant no offense."

"All the same, jesting can be deadly in the court of Lord Rainwhether." he said, "Hush, here he comes."

From behind an arras decorated with figures of sprinting hares and lilac bloom decorations came the one beast the delegates had waited patiently for, or at least had appeared to be patient. A hare, tawny furred on all but his bobtail and grey whiskers, wearing a splendid purple robe and a thick-banded coronet of gold and garnet stones, whisked in. A sabre, made as if for a great King, hung at his thigh by a laced cord. His half-lidded black eyes twitched about, scanning the courtiers briefly and with the expected level of disdain. Ascending a short set of lushly carpeted stairs, the impressive creature gave the room one more once-over, then seated himself in a much more comfortable chair than the other had the privilege to.

Two other hares, both in sharp new scarlet mess jackets, stood at attention either side of their Lord. One was incredibly thin, and a female, while the other was beginning to show signs of a potbelly, and wore four or five jangling medals upon his right breast pocket. Lord Rainwhether gave a wave of a paw, and his two guards relaxed somewhat, lowering their straining shoulders, pouching out their sucked-in cheeks.

A hedgehog seated upon a desk, slightly apart from the Lords and close to the grand hare, lifted a quill over a neat stack of more than two dozen pages of freshly prepared birch parchment. With that, the session was ready to begin.

"My good Lords and Ladies," the hare began, a twinkling smile of goodwill lighting on his face, "We gather under most uneasy circumstances to conduct the time-honored business of our community. As you all know and cherish," he looked smilingly over the crowd, pausing on a rat clad in dark brown, who blanched slightly and had to take a hasty sip from his water glass, "We rulers of Nuriem Township strive to build a kingdom of peace and of order. However, when that order is disrupted or threatened, we must convene to set things right." The Lord paused and cleared his throat, shooting a quick look over to a squirrel robed in light green, who nodded her head. "Lady Verida, would you care to present the first item?"

"I would do this, my Lord," she stood, bowing slightly in his direction. Afterwards, she rustled through a stash of notes on her podium in front of her throne and licked her dry lips. "Squirrel Quarter presents the development of a blight entering the area, one which afflicts the corn crop most disastrously. I put forth the motion that we bar all external trade of corn or its products until further notice."

There was a wave of murmurs. The scribehog's quill scrawled furiously.

"If I may," Zyael rose. The squirrel nodded in his direction. "Thank you, milady. I would second this motion, but under one condition: That corns products not be barred, only the raw crop."

"Sir, your intentions be frugal, not of the common good!" the younger delegate interjected. Lord Rainwhether peered down his nose at the two.

"Madam Verida, if you would kindly request permission to voice objections..." the hare reminded. The fox waved a paw in dismissal, smiling cheerily.

"Nay, nay, it's all well," he said, "I invite our fellow delegate's criticism that I may prove my point further." The squirrel female scowled as she realized that the fox had duped her into giving him a free turn to make his point elaborately clear, while she was left to stutter in the wake of his eloquent speech and seamless logic. As the matter was quickly settled, the final decision coming down in Zyael's favor, the session moved on with adroit precision.

Words clogged the air, when there was not frosty silence and coughing and shuffling papers of course. Zyael was on a roll that night, winning many debates and proposing a great many successful ideas. It was almost impossible to detect the tint of prejudging on the hare overlord's heavy eyelids as he looked on the vulpine.

"Well, we are to the final matter, it seems," Rainwhether spoke again, gesturing to the two hare guards. The delegates watched, Zyael with a sudden skepticism, as they disappeared behind the arras for a moment. "As you all know, earlier on this day an unknown criminal rat entered our domain and proceeded to assault one of our Guard when asked to surrender his blade. It is believed two creatures native to our realm, possibly of a vermin race, aided in the ruffian escaping our Guard's pursuit. I have presently ordered the continuation of a search in all Quarters' buildings for the three fugitives, beginning with the vermins' Quarters..."

The two hares returned, dragging behind them a chilling sight: Two foxes, both young and shaking with terror, were bound and shackled, their paws chained together, their jaws muzzled in bizarre masks, and collars around their necks attacked to a heavy chain. It was with this chain that the two Guard hares tugged firmly, yanking them forward and onto their knees before the assembly. Zyael was suddenly not smiling.

"Hellsfire..." Dorm murmured, staring at the two captives in shock. It did not surprise him, but it never ceased to earn such a response from him. He turned to the fox beside him, who had bit his lip to keep from harboring a frown. "You know them, Zyael?"

"Yes. They're my brothers." the fox said. "Though we did lose some love between us."

The mouse's face was incredulous. He blinked twice then turned back to the pair of prisoners, scrutinizing their faces for signs of truth in Zyael's statement.

"They look very like you." Dorm noticed. "What's going on then?"

"My punishment," the fox muttered, keeping a staunch face. Dorm rounded on him.

"Why do you say this?" he said. The fox adjusted his sleeves and sighed.

"Come now, you knew something would happen," he smiled, "I should never have spoken out. There are drawbacks to courage, it seems..."

Dorm sat horrified silently by the vulpine Lord's casual attitude toward the suffering of his own, his own brothers no less. Settling back in his seat, he tapped a woodmouse aide on the paw and beckoned him closer.

"Who do you say carries the most favor tonight, Ginkle?"

"Largely Zyael, milord," the mouse answered obliviously, "but Rohkko Stonerudder holds some as well. He did win the issue of relying more on the sparrows for intel and not warfare with nary an argument." he shrugged, "But then again, it could be because the vermin sorts never liked the sparrows and he'd always have their votes."

"Hmm..." the aged mouse looked over the otter Lord, clad in his Quarter's signature dark blue. "Take this note to him. Be sure he knows it was from me and not Zyael."

"Aye, Lord." The mouse servant accepted the folded parchment and hurried off, stepping unnoticed as a shadow at dusk behind the thrones of the other rulers.

"Well, well..." the mouse stiffened as he felt the Fox Lord's eyes on him, "Taking one or two stones for me?"

"What of it?"

"Naught. I expected as much from a gentlebeast as yourself. Not like the large majority of these crude oafs."

"Be warned about your words," the mouse smirked, "You never can tell."

"With vermin?" Zyael chuckled, "Ah yes. And pious mice too, if rumors are to be believed."

The note had reached the otter delegate, a stony-faced creature who looked more at home on a battlefield than an assembly chamber. He stood and gave a call to release the brothers of Zyael, given that there was no evidence of them aiding and abetting the three fugitives. After a long look, and a seconding from Lady Verida and the Rat Lord, the hare overlord called off his two lackeys.

"Forsithia, Meldrum," the two bowed and unlocked the chains rubbing raw spots on the wretched creatures' wrists and necks, "Take them out of here, release them back to their Quarters. We can very well trust the testimony of our two good delegates." the hare had a trace of a smug smirk hovering around his bristly lips as he gave a slight inclination of the head to Zyael. The fox did not even flinch. "With that, I believe we have no other items on the board. This session is adjourned, next assemblage is in two days, or sooner if word arrives of the capture or sighting of the fugitives!"

Chairs squeaked and papers rustled as if to imitate the leaves in a forest gale, and hubbub broke out immediately among courtiers and their attendants. Zyael, unlike his usual manner, rose stiffly and immediately and hasten without joining the chatter out the chamber door.

Dorm stared after him. The fox was not easy to read, but then, none of his fellow statesbeasts were. Not even himself, which for so long he had assumed an honest one, devoid of ulterior motive or capacity to cheat. Shaking his head, he rose as well, being aided by his trusted aide Ginkle through the marsh of bodies towards the door as well.

He was a rare one in this lightless realm, dripping with deceit.

* * *

Whoo! A long one, no wonder it took so long to draft up! Please remember to review! Even negative reviews! ^_^


	6. Germination

Sheilds and Stars

The Tale of the Stoat Uprising In Southsward

In the Tradition of Brian Jacques's Redwall Novels

* * *

Chapter 5:

Germination

* * *

The two hare guards, Meldrum and Forsithia, paced on their evening watch on the high parapets of the outer wall of Nuriem, kitted out with the usual red mess jacket, buckler shield, and light one-pawed lances they used to denote their status and drive away foebeasts. Forsithia kept her gaze outward, her view being blocked every few steps by the sharpened points of the logtops that the outer wall was constructed of.

Meldrum chuckled, his gut wobbling slightly. He was watching inwards, peering down at the streets and rooftops and eavesdropping on every gathering of beasts he saw. The thing that had caused him to laugh was a pair of weasels. The two were confronted by six mixed hares and otters, and were being backed into a blind alley. One otter reached out and grabbed the smaller weasel roughly, and the larger one, a female, jumped at him. A hare struck her hard across the forehead and laid her out flat, allowing the otter to continue his business of dragging the weasel off kicking and screaming.

"Why do you laugh at that?" Forsithia scoffed, shaking her head. Meldrum snorted and continued with his chuckle regardless.

"It's funny. Bally vermin gettin' its ears cleaned out." he said. Forsithia shook her head once again.

"It's not that funny," she said, "What if you were that weasel? I fancy y' wouldn't like it then."

"Yeah, well, thankfully, I'm no vermin."

"I said 'what if', genius," she thumped her lancebutt down on the planking particularly hard, "You're supposed to think about it when I say that, no matter what you are."

"I know that," Meldrum grumbled, looking off into the trees again, "Maybe I don't wanna think about bein' a stinkin' vermin. They're called 'vermin' for a reason, y' know..."

* * *

Cesta poured the lime and dandelion cordial, splashing a small amount on Tallon's paw as he reached out prematurely for the beaker.

"Yowch! That stuff's hot, Cesta!" he whimpered as he drew his paw back and sucked on it. "Ya did that on purpose!"

"Yes. Yes I did," Cesta huffed, placing the pitcher of delicious beverage down and crossing her arms, "I still can't believe Her Lordship is allowing you to hide out here! By rights she should be tossing you in th' hares' gaol an' never lookin' back, what with what you did!" She sat and turned away from him with a sharp motion.

Findarr's eyebrows raised and a touch of smile lit on his face as he saw his opportunity. Ever suave, he rose, crouching down at Cesta's side and holding onto her paws in his delicate artist's fingers.

"Cesta..." he cooed, dropping his eyes, "We never meant to upset the balance of the town, or upset you, but Tallon insisted we help the rat, and what was I to do? Leave him there to be slaughtered with no way of escape?" He leaned closer, easing himself to his knees, "Easy now, have some of this drink, and calm down. You're too lovely to be so angered..."

_ Smack!_

Findarr fell on his backside, propelled there by the force of Cesta's merciless paw. Reaching up, he felt his cheek in surprise, the warmth of a reddish welt beginning to rise from where she'd slapped him.

"Get stuffed, you idgit," she growled, "You're as see-through as riverwater to me, Findarr. You feel on me agin an' I'll belt you another." Tallon giggled, forgetting his scorched paw.

Kyol watched the spectacle with silent neutral gaze. He was seated at the very end of a rough wooden table in the servants' mess, against a wall corner. The single silver eye roved about, though honestly the rat's mind was elsewhere. The warm odors of teas and cordials being steeped a doorway away in the kitchen, together with the beginnings of the scent of apple spiced pudding, lowered his eyelids as if they were made of pewter.

His head leaned forward, resting precariously on the rim of a pewter pitcher of cherry squash. The silver eye rolled back along with the blind one, peering inside rather than out as he lost the fight with his inner secrets.

* * *

"Stop there, you vermin scum!" A whip cracked ominously overhead, coming short of the prisoners but terrifying them forward just the same. The tawny-furred rats cowered in the shadow of the lone sea otter as the scourgewhip bristled again. Among the huddled mass of nearly thirty rats were mothers, old ones, and youngbeasts, some not even three seasons old.

"Shh, don't speak," his mother said to him. Kyol fought back tears and snuggled his face deeper into his mother's blouse. The otter's face turned his way, baring a row of shark-like teeth.

"Who's that then?" He lunged with a giant webbed paw, clasping the small rat's mother around the arm and dragging her forward and out of the quaking mob. "Who's that liddle puke's daddy, eh?" The rattess could not answer, retching at their captor's fishy breath and frozen by his cold furious hate, "Eh?! I asked ye a question. Who's... daddy... is... that... liddle... scumbrat's..?"

Kyol wailed, clutching at his mother's blouse hem as she was dragged forward towards the sea cliff. Noticing the extra weight, the otter turned and kicked him roughly, sending him sprawling down the hill and rolling into the feet of the rest of his clan.

"I asked ye nicely twice, you rotten villain," the otter held the rat mother high over his head, her footpaws dangling over the crashing waves far below, "Whichbeast sired that liddle one?"

"Guh... It's... Damon's child, Damon's!"

Kyol stiffened with bewilderment tainted with rage. She had told him about father. Why had she told him about father? They were water rats; the seas did not frighten them. Young Kyol did not understand that the rocks below would claim his mother if she dropped. He stood and rushed forward, raining down weak blows with his stunted paws on the otter's waist.

"Mum, you lie! Why are you lying mum? You told me never to lie!" he shrieked, "Not fair, big bully rudderface! Let go of my mum!"

The otter sneered, the ratbabe's punches and kicks having no effect on him. Tossing the mother aside onto the edge of the clifftop, he rounded on the tiny one and kicked him square in the gut, forcing all the breath from his undersized body. With a hefty rudder blow, Kyol tumbled even farther back down the slope, thudding into the main body of the gathered rats.

"Braw liddle beastie!" the otter bellowed with laughter, but Kyol sensed it was not the pleasant kind, "Ye thinks ye can match me, eh? Hah! Bold liddle scumspawn an' no mistake. You'll grow t' be a fearsome, stupid, Abbey-snatching brute yet." He stamped down the hill towards them, and all the rats of the clumped group drew back in fear, "If'n ye are Damon's son... then I've a score to settle with ye..."

"He's just a boy!" an older male rat spoke up, standing with his cane raised. The otter looked at him, face twisted like he'd just smelled garbage, and lashed out with an iron-heavy paw. The old one collapsed, blood trickling from his nostrils.

"Aye, so 'e is." The otter nodded, watching as the nearest three rats gasped in horror and felt the old one for signs of life in futility, "But 'e's also a vermin. No good comes of yore kind!" The otter's cheeks and paws shook as he turned back to his quarry, "C'mere, ratty, lemme tell ye a story..."

The otter's rough webbed paw forced the ratbabe upright, slamming him against a spar of driftwood used as a grave marker. Young Kyol shivered and tried to hide his eyes as the scarred, brutish face of his tormentor loomed nearer, but the calloused paw forced his face front and his tiny paws down.

"S-stop..." Kyol sobbed. The sea otter smiled and showed his teeth.

"That's it... Suffer, like I have." Kyol's eyes were riveted to the otter's, "Lissen up, verminspawn, an' listen close. When I was yore age, I lived all happy an' carefree. 'Ceptin' my daddy didn't go around looting vittles from everybeast's den an' spikin' anybeast who got in 'is way. You know what 'appened to my daddy?"

Kyol whimpered fitfully, trying to turn his head against the vise-grip of the otter.

"That's right, my daddy ain't around no more." The otter growled, "Can ye guess why?"

"P-please, stop..."

"I ain't stoppin' 'til th' pain goes away, an' there ain't but one way that'll 'appen, rat."

Kyol did not like how the otter's scabbed face was morphing into a dreadful mask, his fangs bared and his eyes blazing with contempt that could not possibly be expressed in words. The otter's paw changed position, grasping Kyol around his spindly throat and lifting him high.

"That's right," the otter roared, "Suffer, Damon! Suffer like I did when you slew me father!"

The ratbabe, his silver eyes shining with tears, was paralyzed as he felt the otter let go and the air rush by. He could not breathe to scream, and plunged into the raging tides at the base of the cliffs without a sound.

* * *

Kyol started awake, accidentally turning over the pitcher of squash onto himself. He stood with a quart of sweet, sticky red fluid dripping off of him and backed away from the mess he'd made, trying to quickly come to his senses.

"Steady on!" Tallon took a hold of the small rat's shoulders and kept his frame from swaying. "What th' devil happened here? Easy, we'll clean it, hold on."

"Master Kyol, do you require rest?" Cesta tilted her head to the side. Kyol reached up and, lowering his head away from the three stoats, flipped the bedraggled hood off of his head. Shiny tawny fur, the color of ripe wheat, flowed out and spilled on his neck, a few locks falling across his unusual eyes which he continued to try and hide.

The stoatess dabbed his wet fur with a barkcloth towel and pulled him along by the one remaining dry corner of his cape, "Come on, you can't walk about in that soiled outfit all day. And your fur! This way, there's baths on the eastern wing an' I can get you a spare tunic for now."

Kyol tried to walk with his eyes mostly hooded, but this was not very effective to say the least. Cesta turned and spied him doing so, and stopped.

"Open your eyes when you walk, Master Kyol." she kept her polite tone, but it was noticeably strained, "You'll bump into something. I'm not your blind-guide."

"I would, but... Please, don't look at me," the rat muttered. Cesta blinked but decided to humor the rodent.

"Alright," she released his cape and beckoned him to follow, averting her gaze as Kyol slowly let his eyes open, "But if you're still doin' it an' you run into something I'm not stoppin' to help you."

The baths were open and somewhat embarrassing, made in the old Southlands style with broad clay-lined tubs in rows within a large tiled room. Basins of steaming water stood along the edges, along with racks where clean linen towels hung. Kyol turned his head aside as Cesta led him in and directed him to a full tub.

"What're you waitin' for? You think I'd peek or something?" the stoatmaid laughed as she turned away and padded out into the hallway again, "Shout for me if you start drownin' or something."

Alone, Kyol caved and removed the soiled garments, setting them carefully to the side by the door should Cesta reenter looking for them. The hot water was amazing, but Kyol hardly felt it. War and past destruction crept through his mind like rapidly growing weeds, and even the aroma of the lilac and gentian soap did not cover the stench of blood which welled up in his mind.

* * *

It had been three seasons since the young water rat had dragged himself sputtering from the sea rocks. His fractures had healed, though he still had an affected gait which was very notable whenever he stepped off with his left footpaw. And he still could not see through his blackened right eye. An explanation evaded him as to why this was, but he could tell when he looked into any still waters that a glossy sheen was forming over it, slowly fading the dark pupil out of existence.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his paws and then glancing towards the humped figure of the volewife. She stirred the broth with a wooden spoon, humming snatches of an old tune and twitching her long wispy whiskers. He put a paw outside the boundaries of the bundle of wool covers.

The attempt was quickly rebuked by a smacking spoon. As Kyol drew his paw back with a hiss of pain, the volewife wagged her weapon at him sternly.

"No, not yet, yew," she barked, "Not 'til I finds out wot's wrong with yore glim."

"If I don't stand again, I'll forget how to walk!" Kyol huffed and crossed his arms. The volewife glared.

"Yew didn't fergit how after that two week stretch last moon, did yew?" She shuffled back to her cooking, wiping the spoon off before stirring the contents of the pot again. "Pore thing. I cain't believe a beast would do such a t'ing to any creature..."

Kyol sighed, wringing the edge of his covers. He did not enjoy reliving the event. He hadn't seen his mother or father since-they were probably dead considering the nature of the fiend that had hurled him from the clifftops.

"Here, drink." She offered him a small cup filled with the steaming broth. The rat took hold of it in both paws, savoring the warmth seeping through the fired clay it was made of. "That's th' stuff t' git yew back in fightin' form, eh. Nettle an' dandelion, with a touch of cattail root and anchovy. Not very tasty, a might too salty, but 'twill do ye a world o' good."

Kyol sipped the mixture. Ignoring the strange flavor, he stared oddly at the volewife for a long while, until she returned the look.

"Marm," he murmured, "Why are you doing this?"

The volewife sat down, creaking almost as loudly as the rocking chair did as she settled. She began to rock.

"You are a Warrior," she answered, awakening more questions in the process, "Such beasts are rare even when cowards do not strike out at 'em. My ole husband was like yew, aye, but he was lucky an' lived out a good long run o' seasons. Ain't no need fer cowards in this world 'cept to define Warriors." She hooded her eyes, her rocking slowed, "Why d'you need t' ask why I helped yew? Yore a livin' creature with a purpose in this world, ain't yew? That otter may not've knowed that, but I shore do."

"Even knowing what my father did..?"

"Aye. A beast's sire matters very little in who they choose t' be," she smiled, "Unless of course yew choose t' follow yore father."

"_No_," Kyol snarled. The volewife smiled.

"Then I'll give yew wotever ye need."

"Whatever I need?" He blinked, "What do you mean? You're already feeding, clothing and healing my wounds. What more are you going to do?"

The volewife stood, stepping over to a panel in the wall. She brushed dust off of it, revealing that it was not a panel, but a glass case. Inside was the shadowed form of a long object wrapped in canvas strips that were slowly disintegrating.

"This b'longed t' me ole husband." The volewife carefully lifted a pane of the glass, setting it down flat upon the foot of Kyol's improvised bed, "'Twas a good weapon an' it served 'im well. I think you'll be needin' it more'n' he ever did..."

As the volewife cast aside the disheveled scraps of cloth the bright sheen of firelight on steel became almost blinding. Kyol shielded his one working eye and marveled at the sword, a rapier of impressive length and quality. Its hilt and pommel were set with a wondrous white stone that the rat had never seen before.

"I can't take this!" He drew his paw away, "It is yours as it was your husband's. It wouldn't be right."

"No, really, I mean it. Yew need this sword like yew need water. Here, try it out," she unsheathed the blade with a zing of razor-edged steel, then held the blade out to him hilt-first. "An' let me git me good poker an' we'll have a bit o' practice..."

Kyol took the sword, his paw weighted down tremendously as he shook to hold it level. The volewife returned brandishing an iron poker intended for the fire and slid into a stance.

"Come on, have at ya!"

Curling his lip uneasily, Kyol stood and took a downward swing at the vole. To his surprise she blocked it deftly and turned the blade aside, the weigh of the rapier turning the rat off-balance and allowing her to knock him over easily with a headbutt. As he looked up dizzily she placed a footpaw on his stomach and pointed the poker in his face.

"Hoo dearie," she laughed, releasing her hold on him and lifting the poker, "It looks like yew're gonna need some practice yet, liddle ratty..."

* * *

"How long are you goin' t' be in there?!"

Kyol was cast back into the present. With an ungainly splosh he leapt from the now-cooled waters and made a slippery run for the towels. Acquiring one, he rushed to wrap it about himself in the semblance of a kilt before the door opened.

And open it did. Tallon poked his head in and, seeing the rat staring him down in naught but a linen towel, burst out laughing. Kyol tried to ignore him, spying a neat bundle of spare clothes lying by the door where his dirty ones had been hours ago. To the soundtrack of now two laughing stoats he pulled the tight breeches and tunic on with a blank look.

"Oh my, so sorry Master Kyol," Findarr attempted between hoots of laughter, "It was just... your headfur... all stuck up on one side... Ahahahahah!"

Kyol felt his still-damp fur on the side of his head, smoothing it down out of its hilarious position. He stooped and retrieved his rapier. The belt he had been given was not as fitting for the clip that attached the rapier's sheath to his side, but it was doable.

Findarr was still giggling. Tallon stepped on his footpaw, sensing by the dire, drawn look on Kyol's face that all was not right. The young stoat approached him as if he were a venomous snake.

"Hey, we didn't mean no offense," he said, "We're just idgits, yah? Couldn't help ourselves. Come on then, there's supper on by now. We've got a place set up for ya in Her Lordship's hall." He grinned and leaned closer, "They've got roasted potato and watershrimp hotpots!"

"Now, hold on there..!" Findarr started, "You can't just throw him in there with a bunch of servants and guests and suchlike as he is, sword and all and very rattish-looking. Any Guardbeast who's there tonight with half a brain in their skull will recognize him right off!"

"Well I don't see you havin' any great ideas," Tallon shot back. Findarr tapped him on the snout.

"Actually, I do have an idea." he smirked, "Think before you speak, that's what I've been telling you for seasons!"

"What's th' idea then?" Tallon rubbed his wounded nose. Findarr moved to Kyol's side and began looking over his face. The rat leaned back a bit in discomfort, narrowing his bad eye.

"Yes, yes, it could work then." He smiled, "Congratulations, Kyol, your face can be altered to look like a proper fieldmouse!"

"..._Make-up_ is your great idea?!" Tallon crossed his paws, turning to Kyol, "You don't know what torture is, mate, before Findarr the bloody Clown gets his powdery claws on you!"

"You could make me look like a mouse?" the rat ignored Tallon's teasing.

"Aye, if you gave me enough time and props I could make you into a bally squirrel or even a rabbit."

"And it would be convincing?"

Findarr grinned, exposing sharp white, and completely straight, teeth.

"Your own mother wouldn't recognize you!"

* * *

Terribly sorry for the delay. The weather here was making the connection a bit slower than usual. Anywho... Remember to review!


End file.
